One shots Yogscast/Hat Films

Heartache Part Two {Troffy}

When the morning finally came, Trott couldn't get himself out of bed. He'd been up all night, like every night for the last few months, crying and sobbing into his pillow, trying his best to think of anything but Smith, and failing drastically. How long had it been since he'd last seen the man who'd broken his heart? He couldn't even think that far back, it all proved to be a haze of tears and tissues. He hadn't heard his voice in weeks, nor had he seen his sparkling blues eyes or ginger tinted hair; and he found himself missing him dearly. No mater how much he'd been hurt, Trott wanted Smith back, he needed him back. And maybe work was the only relationship he could ever have with the man, and though it may hurt...a lot, Trott found himself desperate to see his face again, even if he's greeted with a blank expression and emotionless eyes, it would be better than the last memory he currently had of him, the memory of that night. Pushing those thoughts from his head, Trott soon found himself standing, eyeing the hideously large pile of dirty clothes that positioned itself in the corner of the room, a consistent reminder that Trott had done nothing since the break-up, and that some things desperately needed doing. Perhaps if he could get through work, he could eventually face house work, at least then he wouldn't have to live in a rubbish dump where wrappers and clothes go to die - that state of which his room had become.

Having somehow dressed, eaten, packed his bag and drove, Chris soon found himself sat silently in his car and staring intently at the doorway that would lead him to his office. He was watching the doors as if they were about to get up and walk away, or as if something magical would happen and Smith would soon appeared from them, begging for Trott to forgive him. Maybe it was the lack of sleep that was causing such hopes, Trott didn't know, but what he did know was that if he didn't get his ass into drive, he would be late for work, and having had enough time off already, he didn't really want to disappoint Lewis further. Swiftly climbing out of his car, with his bag in hand, Trott found himself braving the brief cold and walked carefully forward until he reached the doors. Maybe he could go home, tell Lewis he wasn't ready, and that maybe next week he would be ready...

No!

No, he had to do this, if he didn't then he'd never face Smith again, and he couldn't live with himself if that was how this ended. He needed to prove that he could get over this, if not to Smith then to himself. Yanking the doors open, Trott began up the stairs that led to his designated floor. The heat in the building was refreshing compared to the cold winds that were haunting Bristol that month, the November air proving to be a lot harsher than they had been the year before, or maybe that was simply Trott's sensitivity.

Finally reaching his floor, Trott examined the corridor in front of him. He could see his office door, and he knew Smith would be the sight he would be greeted with upon entering. Preparing himself for that, Chris began walking slowly forward. The distant sounds of people recording in their separate rooms serving as a continuous reminder of what he would be forced to do. Forced to play along with Smith's jokes and insults, acting as though nothing had gone wrong in their lives, acting as if everything was as it had been. Trott wasn't sure that he could keep that up, wondering how many games he could play, or videos he could record before breaking down to a heartbroken heap at his desk, and being forced into such an embarrassment in front of Smith, who would then know how much he'd broken and ruined Chris. When reaching the correct, and open, door, Trott was indeed greeted with the sight of his ex boyfriend, laughing and talking at his desk with his headset on and eyes focused on his computer screen, probably playing a random game with Ross, whom also wore a headset and had his head down. Neither of the men in the room noticed Trott's appearance, and as a result the short man quietly made his way to his desk, not wanting to draw any attention to himself.

Sitting himself down at his desk, and going to turn the monitor on, Ross' gaze jumped to his co-worker's sudden reappearance, it having been god knows how long since he'd last seen his best friend. "You alright mate?" Ross asked Trott calmly, watching carefully as the short man flinched at the sound of his voice, before cautiously turning to face him. It shocked Ross how vulnerable Trott looked in that moment, the dark bags under his eyes and the paleness of his face something Ross was not used to seeing, and was slightly concerned about. "Fine, thanks, had a cold is all," Trott murmured, forcing the only thing close to a smile he could muster as he turned his gaze back to the screen in front of him. He hadn't bothered to check and see if Smith's gaze was on him, not sure how he would handle it if he were to make eye contact with the bearded man who sat on the other side of the room. However, Trott was wrong, Smith's eyes remained glued on his own screen, in fear of looking up. He could not help but feel incredibly guilty, knowing damn well that Trott had not had a cold over the past few weeks, but instead was cooped up in their home, crying his eyes out because of Smith's horrid words and harsh actions towards him. So Alex chose to say nothing, and tried his best to focus on anything but the appearance of Trott, and not saying a word to him, unsure that anything he said to the man would mean anything anymore.